Chapter 02. The next page.

I want to carry on, write more and more about my life, but after that first chapter, I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. When I started writing that, a few days ago, I never intended to publish it and make it available for everyone to see, especially for some people from my family. I’ve started it as a form of therapy, to help myself understand more of me, so I’ve poured some really deep experiences in, and wrote them down.

At the end, I think it was 2 or 3 in the morning, and I got the idea of actually making it public. Don’t get me wrong, there’s so much in here that I would love to share with some people, and during the entire process, I felt some parts were almost like a dedication.

I’ve been contemplating about what chapter 02 should be about ever since that went live. Now I know people will read. Do I hide? Do I talk about something else so I’m not repetitive? What do I do, and how do I renew this courage to lay myself bare for everyone to see again?

So I decided to sit down, get my blue fountain pen, not the black one this time, and see what I come up with.

Yesterday I was watching this video about someone discovering gaming at an older age and loving it. It was a beautiful video, but my first thought jumped to my dad. This man who never liked games, or at least, didn’t like me playing them. But in that moment, all I wanted was to have him over, sit him down, give him the wheel and a headset and let him race some cars in one of my favorite games.

I wanted him to have that wonder that I had when I first played, to show hum how fun all of it can be. That it’s not all about addiction and unruly teenagers. But I wanted to see him happy, see him smile and laugh with me. I don’t think I ever saw him laugh with me.

I wanted this broken connection between us to somehow rekindle. Maybe this could do it, maybe doing this would somehow make me have a father again. Or maybe something else. Hell, if I could afford to take him to Silverstone for a day, or go skydiving or watch some police movies together. If any of that would work, I would love to try them all.

I don’t know how it is to have a father growing up, but maybe it’s worth giving it a shot again now, at 26. Because for sure there are things that I could learn from him for a long time. But how do I even get close to someone who’s been such a bad memory in my life? All I know about him is how to avoid him and the subjects I shouldn’t talk about.

I was alone in my flat, a good few months ago, early autumn last year and I was ironing my shirts in bulk so they’ll be ready for my next week of work. At this point, I already started resenting my job and the weekly routine. The people I was doing projects for were getting increasingly bothersome and I ran out of people to complain to. They were dealing with their own issues and I was probably not helping their stress levels. The company needed sales and we weren’t getting them.

I told my coworker I wanted to quit back in August, that it didn’t feel good anymore, something was off and I wasn’t growing in the role I was in. I was told it will pass, so I took a break for a week, let myself relax. But it was almost October now and things only felt worse. The colleagues who used to pick me up in the mornings got a new job so I started getting this bus that made me motion sick and nauseous by the time I got to work. The rain didn’t help. Oh god, how do brits cope with this rain?

The rides to work turned from a 7 minute cozy car trip to a 50 minute walk in the rain and dizzying buses and trains. So I slept less, had less time for myself and felt worse. And I really, really, really wanted to stop working there. I started hating what I was doing again, and that wasn’t a good sign. I was relying on my therapist for a “sign” more and more and I was really afraid of making that decision on my own. In the end, it was an easy job, it was still relatively close, I was getting a decent sum of money, I was good at it and, above all, it was stable. I wanted safe and I finally had it. Why would I listen to this voice and throw all of that away? I would have to find a new job, and last time I could remember, it took me several months to find this one. So it was safe, and I was staying.

To carry on, I was ironing these clothes, thinking about all of that stuff above, and I was watching this mindless TV show while I was doing it. You know, to help dull down the thoughts.

And I sigh.

And then it hits me. Full force. He used to do that all the time! He would get all of our clothes, put the ironing board in front of the TV with the same random show on, and iron. And sigh. The same way that I did! The same pain underneath his breath. The same.

It hit me with such force, I started tearing up. This man that I had only seen as a villain to my story since then, this man I though was just a big pile of bad, went through the same thing I was. He had feelings as well! And he felt that for years on end, every single day? How could he take it? Because I couldn’t! I wanted to quit and run away and be free. And forget about me, he had a full family depending on him. On him suffering this every day so we could get our food and all that we needed. In that moment I think he completely changed in my mind and my heart. From this one sided villain to a hero of his own story, trying his best every day. If not for him, then for us, if not for us, then for our future.

Yet all I saw in him was a bad guy. How much that must have hurt. All that effort repaid that way. But I didn’t know, or maybe I didn’t want to know. Maybe the thought of him being human made me a villain, made me responsible for the bad I’ve done. And I really didn’t want that.

It was the first time I didn’t feel horrible for being so similar to him, like I did before. I felt.. proud. I felt happy I was like him. A connection! Something I finally understood, I finally got close to him, even like this, not speaking for a year, in different parts of Europe, I felt closer to him now that I did all those times hugging him in my past.

I doubt he reads these things I post, and if he would, I doubt he could understand English. In my head, I’m hoping someone would translate it for him, but I’d really want him to know. I think I should write it to him after I’m done, translate it myself, make sure he gets it, and make sure he knows I finally understand. Yes, I think I’ll do that.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

So that just happened.

Had to make tea and type it all out before I hit send. All of the above and a bit more, maybe too personal to write here. Maybe it’s cowardly sending it at 2:30 in the morning and running off to sleep before he gets to see it and reply. Maybe I should have called, or some other nonsense that I’m thinking about right now. I’m so anxious about the next reply will be, but for now, I’m here hoping something can change to the better. For now, it’s all I could do, and honestly, I think I’m more afraid now than before. You know, mute the phone and don’t look for a while. And maybe that’s still the best I can do.

And it still feels unreal, a part of some story I just made up, like the people aren’t real, like the consequences aren’t real. Like waking up tomorrow will reveal all of this to be some sort of dream I’ve put myself through. I don’t think tomorrow morning me will like any of this. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism and I’ll slowly accept it in a few days.

I’ve finished transcribing all that handwriting, I thought I was done, but I still want to carry on. Write more, share more. If I were to say one more thing, was that I was so pleasantly surprised by everyone that decided to connect with me after my last post. I’ve isolated myself in this cocoon thinking I’m safe here, and out there BAD, and ran away from it for so long, and it’s lovely to see myself proven wrong. I shared my last chapter to maybe show to whomever reads about myself, and instead, I found that I’m not alone in what I’m going through. That no matter how different our individual lives are, we still connect in so many ways, and at the core, we still value each other. It was such a wonderful thing to experience, so I want to thank everyone that did, you are lovely, wonderful people.

I’m not sure how to end tonight, so maybe I’ll try a short poem or something.

I do not have words for this world so vast.

I do not know how to speak and act all that fast.

I don’t understand what makes all of us work.

I don’t comprehend the nature, its quirk.

I may be this old, but I still feel like a child

My dreams, my tears and my feelings, still wild

My hope still the same from that very first day:

United in love, and harmony, we cannot go astray.